#out of context tenth doctor

[wispedvellichor]

[akascow]

i keep getting 10th doctor/rose tyler videos on my fyp and its making me cry which is crazy bc ive only seen like THREE episodes of doctor who when tennant was the doctor but god they were in love and then they went seperate ways its too early for this rn🥹🥹🥹

[magiccath]

Worst Nightmare

tenth doctor x GN!reader

Summary: In which the Doctor is trapped in an alien-induced nightmare, and it's up to reader to save him

a gift for my friend @internet-stranger-says-hi

The Doctor woke up in an unfamiliar bed, panting. He looked around the room, anxiety building within him at his surroundings. He was in a hospital room. He hated hospitals, they gave him the creeps. His eyes searched the room for you, darting around at a shocking speed. It quickly became apparent that you weren’t in the room with him. Where were you? He needed to find you, and quick.

He noticed a small IV strapped to his arm and ripped it out with haste, not bothering to check the damage in his haste. As quick as he could, he threw the bedsheets off, immediately rushing to the door. A sudden tension built within him, harboring a desperate need to find you. He needed you, he always did. 

He threw the door open and speed walked out into the hall. As he strode he ran his hands through his hair anxiously, wracking his brain for any memory that might clue him into his current situation. The issue was, he couldn’t remember a single thing. Where he was, why he was there, and most importantly, where you were. The questions piled up, fueling the anxious thoughts within the Time Lord. 

He really, truly hated hospitals. He told Rose as much when they visited New-New York. Even the fun little gift shops couldn’t ease the discomfort that they brought him. The irony wasn’t lost on him. His name itself implied hospitals (or at least some kind of medical context), but he just couldn’t do it.

The hallways seemed to go on forever, an endless maze of off-white walls. The pain in his head was accentuated by the bright fluorescent lights, creating a blinding blur around his vision. The putrid smell of disinfectant hung in the air, making his stomach churn. 

He tried to outrun the sinking feeling, searching desperately for an exit sign. He ran down hallway after hallway, increasingly desperate for a way out. It never seemed to end, an infinite labyrinth of his nightmares. He called out your name desperately, hoping you were somewhere in the hospital. He received no response, only the unsettling buzz of the lights above his head. It was excruciating. 

He began to wonder if he was nothing more than a mouse trapped in a complex maze set up to find the block of cheese. In the end, he didn’t really care if it was a trap, he needed to find you. 

He desperately called out your name again, more a plea than anything else. The more he ran through the hospital, the more he was convinced he was truly lost. Every shadow caught his eye, giving him false hope that you were there. 

He needed you. So much more than he would ever admit to himself, especially more than he would ever admit to you. Without you, he was scared and lost, and worst of all, he was cruel. He never wanted to be those things. He never wanted to be without you. 

He felt tears pickling his eyes, but he refused to cry. He had to shove his own feelings down and find his way out. He didn’t have time to dwell on the pain and fear boiling within him, no matter how much it hurt. 

He gathered himself and continued on, rushing through the endless halls. He made a mental map of where he was going, trying to ensure that he didn’t run about in circles. He noted the turns, the signs, and the labeled doors. It all seemed futile, resulting in him still running in what felt like circles.

After what felt like multiple gruesome hours, he ran into you. Your face felt like home, and he couldn’t help but throw his arms around you. He held you tightly against him. He dropped his head to your shoulder, burying his nose in the crook of your neck. From here, he could breathe in your calming scent. He never wanted to move, just wanted to stay here in your arms. 

Unfortunately, his reprieve was brief, as you quickly pulled away from him. The warmth of your embrace was quickly replaced by a harsh slap to the face. 

“You left me!” You cried - fury etched into your features. 

“I lost you!” He argued, using his hand to cover the spot you slapped him. He didn’t understand what was happening, and that upset him. He always knew what was going on.

“You did not,” you huffed, “you left me all alone!” 

“I didn’t, I would never do that,” the Doctor pleaded, obviously upset. He truly wouldn't. He needed you, he wanted you.

“I cannot believe you,” you sneered, anger boiling. “I follow you all this time, and the minute I stop being of help you dump me.” 

“Please-” 

“You’re an absolute monster, y’know,” you spat. The Doctor didn’t know what to say, he wasn’t sure he could say anything. 

“The things you have done are completely unforgivable, and I’m tired of pretending they aren’t! You do way more harm than good.” 

The Doctor felt tears building in his eyes again, and there was little he could do to stop them. Against his will, they started to fall. You were hitting him in his most vulnerable spots, and it was excruciating. You knew his insecurities better than anyone, and here you were exploiting them.

“You’re arrogant, rude, and a whole new level of selfish,” you continued. The Doctor shook his head like the action might stop your words. 

“You don’t deserve to be loved,” you laughed, the sound more cruel than musical like it normally was. The Doctor didn’t want to hear anymore, but that didn’t stop you. 

“I really, truly, wholeheartedly, despise you.” 

That was the final hit, he was done for. Everything else became so insignificant. His ears started ringing, a pressure that muted everything around him. He knew you were still talking, still yelling at him, but he couldn’t seem to hear it. Perhaps it was shock. Perhaps it was heartbreak. Perhaps he was so upset he was regenerating.

“Doctor!” your voice came through his head clearly. But that’s not what your mouth was saying. It was almost as if he had the subtitles on for the wrong show. 

“Doctor!” But there it was again, clear as day, your voice calling him, pulling him out of the dark.

His vision blurred, and the scene in front of him faded away into nothingness. He had been violently ripped awake, forcing him back into the present. He sprang upwards, nearly knocking you over in the process. His breaths came in short, painful pants. He felt like his lungs were on fire, and the room around him was blurry and unfocused. 

“Doctor!” you cheered a third time, throwing yourself into his arms. He stiffened at the touch, still wary and hurt from your words. What had previously been a comforting action felt more like a stab to the gut. 

You pulled away gently, confused by his demeanor. He usually softened at your touch.

“Doctor?” you asked softer, worry clouding your eyes. What had happened to him?

“Where am I?” He gasped, terrified. He felt a lightness in his head like he could pass out at any moment. His eyes darted around the room again, unsure if this was another horrible dream.

Footsteps thundered down the hall, signaling that the aliens who kidnapped the Doctor were near. You supposed it was up to you to get the two of you out of this. A sudden urgency fueled you, and you sprang into action. 

“Oh dear,” you rambled, “we need to get you back to the TARDIS, now,” you hauled the Doctor upwards as he drifted in and out of consciousness. 

The Doctor was a lot heavier than he looked. You supposed it was due to his impressive height. Nonetheless, he was heavy enough that you had a bit of trouble dragging him back to the ship in a timely manner. Fear and adrenaline coursed through your body, motivating you to move faster. 

You lugged the Doctor through the heavy wooden doors before slamming them shut. You fumbled with the lock on the door, your hands shaking. You finally got it closed and breathed a sigh of relief. You slumped back against the doors with another exhausted sigh. You were safe behind the TARDIS doors, but that didn’t stop you from worrying. What if the aliens figured out how to get into the ship? What were you going to do then? The Doctor was the one who got you out of sticky situations like this.

You moved over to where the Doctor lay on the floor and started tapping his cheek, hoping to prod him awake. You needed him to get you to safety. You had done as much as you could, unfortunately, it was up to him now. Frustrated and groggy, he complied, awakening with a groan. 

“Doctor,” you whispered, urgently. All you got was a grumble in response. “We need to get out of here,” you urged, eyes darting between him and the door. 

He noted the anxiety in your voice and demeanor, the events of the past few hours rushing back to him. He needed to get you out of here.

Begrudgingly, the Doctor pulled himself upright, dragging his hands over his face. Suddenly, a burst of energy flooded him, and he was on his feet. You watched flabbergasted as he ran about the ship, flicking switches, and pressing buttons. 

“Doctor?” You asked with a laugh. This wasn’t unusual for him, which was a good sign. He had boundless amounts of energy at all times.

“Yes?” 

“Are you ok?” 

“Never been better,” he said, but his inflection was off, “thank you.”

You presumed he was thanking you for rescuing him, something he never did. You were still sitting on the floor, legs spread out like a child. You frowned at the ground, wondering what you had done wrong. You racked your brain for something that might explain his upset but came up with nothing.

You pulled yourself up from the floor, confused. You watched the Doctor pilot the TARDIS, the whole time completely ignoring you. 

“Where are we going?” you asked, leaning against the console. He didn’t respond and moved away from you. The ship suddenly felt incredibly cold to you. You rubbed your arms subconsciously, trying to comfort yourself. 

The TARDIS landed with its usual thump, causing you to wobble slightly on your feet. You tried to catch the Doctor’s eye, but he evaded you. 

“Home,” he said matter of factly, gesturing to the doors. His eyes remained trained on the console, refusing to look at you. Was he dismissing you?

“I didn’t ask to go home.” 

“You don’t have to stay here.”

“Do you want me to leave?” You asked, hurt. Maybe he was finally done with you. 

“You don’t have to spend time with someone you hate.” 

“Do you seriously think that?” you asked, your voice pain-ridden. You had just risked your life to save him. You loved the Doctor, how could he not see that?

“You said it yourself,” he shook his head. 

“When?” 

“Earlier, when you found me in the hospital,” he still refused to look at you.

“What are you talking about?” 

“You made it very clear that I was an unforgivable monster and you truly hated me,” The Doctor finally looked at you, and his gaze felt like daggers.

You scrunched your eyes closed, the pieces finally falling together. Slowly, you opened your eyes, “You got kidnapped by aliens,” you explained simply, “they put you in a dream-induced state and showed you your worst nightmare.” 

“What?” The Doctor asked, eyes wide in confusion.

“None of it was real,” you said, completely earnestly. 

“I could never hate you. Ever,” you pleaded, “and you are far from a monster.” 

The Doctor shook his head, trying to make sense of it all. 

“Really,” you said, forcing him to look you in the eye. He needed to see you weren’t lying. He needed to see how much you meant to him. That you couldn’t look at him and feel anything but love. 

He moved his gaze away from you, staring at the TARDIS console, brow furrowed. You desperately wanted to push your finger between his eyebrows to smooth the worry wrinkle. 

“I spent so long not allowing myself love,” he whispered, so light you almost didn’t hear him. “It’s just safer that way,” you didn’t understand why he was telling you this, but you didn’t dare interrupt him. 

“And then I met you,” he lifted his head slowly to meet your eyes. It was easy to forget how old he was, how much he had seen. That was until you looked into his eyes. Behind them was so much time and pain that it was almost impossible to look away sometimes.

“As much as I tried to fight it,” he continued, “There was no stopping my feelings for you.” 

You honestly didn’t know what to say. You would never have expected him to say these things, to feel this way. A part of you felt the same and more, but you had always thought it wasn’t a possibility. 

“Doctor,” was all you could manage to get out. 

“You don’t have to say anything,” he blurted out, already turning away. You caught his face with your hand, gently turning him back to you. 

“I love you more than I have ever loved anything in my stupid human life,” you whispered, staring deep into his eyes. 

“What?” He gasped like the information shocked him. 

“I love your sticky-uppy hair,” you said, running your fingers through his locks lightly. “I love your freckles,” you ghosted your fingers around his nose and cheeks next, “I love the smile you get when you figure something out. I love your mind and the wild things it comes up with,” you allowed your hands to rest against his face again. “I love how kind you are, and how deeply you care. I love everything about you, every part of you.” 

Somehow you had managed to say exactly what the Doctor needed to hear. Your gentle words and touch melted him to the core. 

“Really?” He whispered, still terrified it wasn’t real. He couldn’t remember the last time that someone had said they loved him, let alone listed off a bunch of reasons why.

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. Stupid Time Lord. 

“Really,” you whispered back, leaning in closer to him. 

He smiled lightly and rested his forehead against your own, bringing you closer to him. You nuzzled your nose against his gently. Your eyes fluttered closed, feeling a new kind of comfort with the close proximity. After a minute the Doctor slowly closed the last little space between you, finally connecting his lips with yours. 

The Doctor was so much better at kissing than you had ever imagined. It put every single kiss to shame, even those on the telly. It was almost as if he was made for you. A perfect fit.

You smiled against his lips, feeling more at home than you ever had in your life. Yes, you could get quite used to this. 

[mizgnomer]

Behind the Scenes of The Star Beast - Part Five

Excerpt from Benjamin Cook’s Star Beast Set Visit in DWM 597:

Tonight, in London’s famous Camden Market, David will be taking the Fourteenth Doctor’s first, not-so-tentative steps into the big, wide world – shooting the pre-title sequence for Special 1, The Star Beast. Although, right now he’s sheltering inside Modfather (‘VINTAGE STYLE, MODERN LIFE,’ says a sign in the outfitters’ window), to evade the glare of the cameraphones. In his new Doctor Who costume – plaid brown suit, white shirt and knitted silver tie, with a dark blue Shetland tweed coat – David doesn’t look at all out of place here. In October 2022, a mere 12 years, 9 months and 22 days after his last regular appearance in Doctor Who – as the Tenth Doctor, in The End of Time – David Tennant returned to the show. We’d never seen a Doctor regenerate into a former body before. For context, classic Who fans: David turning up in the dying moments of The Power of the Doctor is a bit like if Peter Davison had regenerated into Patrick Troughton’s Sixth Doctor at the end of Time-Flight, in 1982. Which he didn’t. Though, while we’re on the subject… David remembers watching Troughton return in the ’80s, for the odd one-off: “That felt like a man from pre-history turning up, to me in 1983, because I was just – what? – 12 years old,” he says of 20th Anniversary Special The Five Doctors. “But I bet it felt like yesterday for Patrick Troughton.” Forty years on, David can relate: “It’s like when people tell me – in fact, people on this set, working on this show, have come up to me this past week and gone – ‘I loved watching you as a kid.’ I’m like, … you were a kid? What, no! To me, it was a blink of an eye ago. To them… I’m pre-history!” But now he’s the present, too.

A huge THANK YOU to everyone who posted set photos, including Modfather on Instagram

Additional parts of this set are in the #whoBtsBeast tag. The full episode list is [ here ]

[iminsomanyfandomsitscrazy]

It’s funny, because lately I have once again become obsessed (like, more obsessed than usual) with the Tenth Doctor. (For context, I’m always completely obsessed w/ 10 and obsessed with 9). And as such, I’ve been rewatching S1-4, and, of course, watching YouTube videos. Videos of 10 being his chaotic and sassy self, Ten and/or Nine and Rose, Rose herself, him and Martha, Martha, him and Donna, Donna, Wilf being iconic, whatever.

And it’s funny because under quite a few vids of the Doctor and Donna I see people comment things like “I loved Donna so much more than Rose and Martha. She called him out on his shit whereas they just followed him around like lovestruck puppies” and it just makes me laugh.

Like, not only is it not true (for either Rose or Martha), but though dozens of examples of both of them standing up to the Doctor/being badasses on their own/not at all being “people who romantically love him and just follow him around and won’t call him out”, it especially always reminds me of a scene in “The Girl In The Fireplace” (which many videos about Ten being chaotic/sassy usually include “Mickey, what’s a pre-revolutionary France doing on a spaceship? Get a little perspective!” and “no, you’re not keeping the horse” “I let you keep Mickey!”). Anyway, the Doctor comes back on board after meeting with Madame de Pompadour, and Rose and Micky have left to explore the ship and see what’s on board themselves (with Rose spearheading it, which I don’t think is “lovestruck girl who doesn’t do anything herself and is at his every beck and call” behavior,) and he gets frustrated and it’s all “what the heck? The first rule is don’t leave! I told you not to leave! But you didn’t listen did you?”. (And at which time he meets a horse (Arthur) on board).

We then cut to Rose and Mickey investigating and finding an eyeball in a socket acting as a camera and a heart plugged in to help run the ship, and we cut back to the Doctor who’s walking around the ship going “Rose” - in a tone that kinda sounds like a lost puppy - before turning around and telling the horse to stop following him.

And so those comments always make me laugh bc I always just think of the scene where the Doctor looks like he’s a lost puppy trying to find the person he loves, not the other way around.

[wishihadatimemachine99]

hmmm

#1 Twelve

#2 Ten

#3 Four

#4 Three

#5 Nine

#6 Eight

#7 Five

#8 Eleven

#9 Thirteen

#10 Six

#11 One

#12 Two

#13 Seven

I feel like everyone who talks about Doctor Who needs to rank the Doctors. So here is my list. I'm excluding 1&2 because I haven't seen enough of them to form an opinion, War and Fugitive because it's not fair, 14 and 15 because they aren't out yet.

I don't hate any of them, btw.

#1 The Twelfth Doctor

#2 The Eighth Doctor

#3 The Eleventh Doctor

#4 The Tenth Doctor

#5 The Sixth Doctor

#6 The Ninth Doctor

#7 The Fourth Doctor

#8 The Seventh Doctor

#9 The Thirteenth Doctor

#10 The Seventh Doctor

#11 The Third Doctor

#12 The Fifth Doctor

[catboygirljoker]

What were your thoughts about KHearts before you got into it vs Now having been into it? Also late welcome to the community hope you've had fun!

thankyou :D!! i have had fun, sitting in my little crevice and exporting my xigbar images and xigbar posts. im happy that people have connected with it in some way :]

thoughts about KH before i got into it:

for some reason i was under the impression that the games were about a boy who has dreams about disney worlds. and he has regular size feet in the real world and only has big feet in the dream world. i also think he traveled with mickey and not donald or goofy

also for some reason i was under the impression that ventus was sora's dad. it was not until i actually watched the cutscenes in birth by sleep and saw lea and isa that i realized OH. this is NOT as far back on the timeline as i thought it was

images of a spiky red boy and a spiky blond boy and a black haired depressed girl eating ice cream together with lots&lots of people sobbing in the replies. (REALLY emphasized the slow creeping emotional dread of that game for me. like golly i sure hope i dont get emotionally destroyed like all those other people! and then i , was)

when i was in middle/high school i had friends who were super into it, but i was never able to play it because my parents had a policy of No Consoles. we were allowed to have handhelds, though, because my family took frequent road trips, so when i found out that there was a KH game for DS i said to a friend "oh, cool! dyou think id be able to play it without playing the other games?" and she looked at me, and looked at her copy of Kingdom Hearts 358/2 Days, and said "........no"

only ~15 years later do i realize how funny of a question that was

thoughts about KH as i was getting into it:

too numerous to count. i shall attempt to keep it moderately brief

last year my husband listened to a podcast called "lore dump" where people explain the lore of different media to each other, and they did an episode/series on kingdom hearts, and i heard some pretty WaCkY sTuFf (i specifically remember them explaining what the recusant's sigil is, in the context of xigbar explaining that they'd been tracking sora and riku through the story of DDD)

found a vod of one of my favorite streamers streaming 1 and 2 to benefit abortion rights in texas, and i was like, well, here's my chance, heh, im gonna understand all of the WaCkY LoRe

i start up the stream. within the first 15 minutes i Get it. like it feels very dated in a lot of ways but i instantly understood what made people connect so strongly with this series. even as someone who didn't grow up with any attachment to it, and was a little put off of it even by how into it my friends were, to me kh1 is just pure high octane nostalgia. the tone is so specific and warm and bittersweet. i cried multiple times during the ending. it just really got to me! i was hooked!

when i fixate on a media property i like to have a hot person to chew on. i really. really thought it was gonna be axel. he is exactly the kind of character i would've fixated on when i was younger, when i had friends who were into KH. older mentor figure character who takes younger characters under his wing. associated with fire. projects brash confidence. k,ills people. he's a really good character! i love him a lot! every time he appears on screen i get on all fours and start barking! and there's all this fanart and merch and...then i got distracted......

hey blake in early 2023. it's me, blake in late 2024. have you heard of kingdom hearts. yeah. yeah youre gonna get really into it. yeah youre gonna have the longest running blorbo since you mega-fixated on the tenth doctor when you were 14. yeah. yeah um. you know the clip where the guy says "me? i'm already half xehanort!" and sora says "that's..nuts!"? yeah that guy? yeah. yeah. that guy. the half xehanort guy. yeah youre gonna make a fool of yourself online for that guy.

[mysticalsoot]

halloween costumes & anxiety

part 1 of 'glances of love'

➸ note; I bit the bullet. alright so context, glances of love is a fic series based off my chaos dr which is basically just a streamer dr hybrid. some details, like the dynamic between reader and Wil, readers behaviors and anxieties, experiences like this fic, are all pieces of my dr. so if it's unconventional, I'm sorry but it's my Dr, my blog, my writing. i choose to share this bc I want to and I want other people to enjoy my work. anyways! on with the reading (please don't throw stones at me, my bones are like brittle glass)

➸ pairing; male!reader x cc!wilbur, he/him

➸ summary; reader avoids going to wilbur's shows for one reason--the fans. he has no qualms against them, they just scare him. he decides to go for the second Halloween gig, dressing up as a humanized tardis as wilbur is the tenth doctor. everything goes smoothly until it's time to meet fans. Wilbur then comforts reader yay!

➸ warning; uses of babyboy including other nicknames, one use of daddy but in a sfw/jokingly sweet context! maybe swearing? mean depiction of some Lovejoy fans-- sorry! wilbur dresses up as the tenth doctor.. nerdy and dorky shit. reader has much panic and anxiety, some hints of an anxiety attack mixed with an autistic shut down (haha me-- /lh)

➸ age-rating; 15+

➸ wordcount; 3.2k

main masterlist

glances of love masterlist

you love wilbur, that was something you were sure of and wholeheartedly so. you supported him, mostly from the safety of your shared home. making posts online basically being his biggest cheerleader, helping him calm down from panics or spirals, smiling and cheering whenever he shows you something knew. you love him. you support him. you adore him.

but his fanbase scares you. it's nothing against them, really. maybe it's the daunting size and intensity of the group of people. maybe it's the negativity that manages to be at the forefront of your mind. whatever it is, they scare you.

you haven't been to one of Lovejoy's shows in ages, and you really hadn't planned on it. you still sort of don't yet Wil's been talking about the next big gig; the Halloween show in Brighton. he wants you to be there, wherever comfortable of course, all dressed up in a matching costume, cheering him on and right there so he can kiss you the second he steps off stage, utilizing that adrenaline to his advantage. he wants you by his side through everything, and while he'd never push you to something you don't want to do, he can't help but be a little pushy about it. he isn't mean or harmful, he just mentions it more. he talks and he talks about it, bouncing and stimming in joy at the mentions of it and the plans he has for it and how cool it's going to be. he wants you there so bad, and it's painfully clear.

"so, what do you think, baby?" he asks as he spins around in front of the TV, showing off his costume in all its glory. you made a joke a few months prior that he reminded you of David Tennant's doctor who, and he took it and ran with it. he's clad in his old converse, some of his funky socks, a pair of brown patterned pants. he tucks in the white shirt a bit more, adjusting the tie before putting the trench coat on. he smiles widely, hands in his pockets just like Ten.

you smile and nod, clapping softly, "you look lovely, darling!" you try your best to sound as excited as possible, giggling when you see him try to stick his hair upwards, but it flops down over his forehead and he sticks his lip out in a pout. "don't think your hair is made for that, bub."

you shake your head with a smile as he shrugs, striding over to you and plopping down beside you on the couch, tossing his legs up on the coffee table in front of you. he tugs you into his lap, "c'mere," and you oblige with a giggle, settling between his thighs comfortably, your legs around his waist as you rest your hands half on his chest half on his shoulders. he holds you by your lower back and hips, hands flat out on your body.

"why don't you come, just this once?" he speaks barely above a whisper as he pushes a bit of hair out of your face, a kiss placed on your opposite cheek.

you think for a moment, you need to go sometime. being on the sidelines won't cut it for much longer, and going means more time with him, less time spent alone. but that also means being near a lot of people, or being in a crowd. or meeting fans--

"yeah, why not?" you smile softly, part of you immediately regretting your words but holding up to your word anyhow.

the following week is spent in preparation, costumes, after show plans, travel, rehearsal, set list writing-- most things Wil handles alone. alot of time spent tucked away in the office in the flat, or on the phone or in the studio. but you both manage time to spend together, and to work on your costume. you both decided on a simple costume, a flowy shirt, a leather jacket, some boots and a tardis key around your neck.

a simple omage to the doctor's forever partner, the tardis. you both thought it was sweet, a nice way to say "forever?" in a rather dorky and cute way.

the day of the show snuck up on you both much quicker than expected, Wil was scrambling to leave early and you were trying to calm your nerves the moment you woke. of course you'd be home on your own for a bit, until you went to the venue a couple hours before it started. you'd help out in whatever way you could and then help wil with makeup if he decided he wanted to add some, just for a special touch.

"if you need anything from me, don't hesitate to call okay? or text. I'm right here, baby. I'll make sure you're okay." he smiles, kissing your forehead as he goes through his mental bullet points of what to remind you on.

• I'm here

• you're safe

• text me

• call me

• I love you

• goodbye/see you soon

the way he had this little pre-venue routine was sweet, and it helped calm your nerves even for a bit. it brought you peace of mind and helped settle that fire that always lit in your stomach in moments of anxiety.

he was like a natural anxiety remedy, and you loved every second of it.

"I know, I know. I'll tell you if anything's wrong. now, go have fun at soundcheck. i love you, bee," you lean up to try and reach his lips to kiss, yet you don't quite reach that height. he leans down and closes the gap for you, your lips moving in sync with one another as you sigh into the feeling. it's nice, it's warm and it buzzes your skin. he pulls back, smiling before biting his lip. he brushes some hair out of your face as he admires you.

"I love you so so much, thank you for coming tonight.." he peppers kisses all over your face, holding your head in his hand as you giggle, holding his arms gently.

you giggle, smiling sweetly as he kisses all over your face and then he kisses your nose and stops, pulling back to smile down at you.

"I love you soo much more!" you giggle, kissing one more time as you both bid one another a sweet 'see you later'. you drop down onto the couch the moment the door clicks shut. you take in a deep, shakey breath, spending the next few hours wondering and pondering on how you expect to handle being at the show.

a few hours pass and you're on the walk to the venue, it isn't far from Wil's apartment building so you manage a swift 10-minute walk, wilbur's acoustic guitar slung on your back. you managed to avoid the crowds lining up and queuing for the show, slipping into the venue through the backdoor, sighing in relief once the door was shut and locked behind you. you hurried over to the green room, holding the guitar strap on your chest and putting the guitar down in the corner. Wil walks in a moment later, hurrying up behind you and wrapping his long arms around you. he rests his chin on your shoulder and you sigh happily. turning in his grasp, you shove yourself into his chest and keep close.

"I'm glad to see you, honeybaby.." he moves to rest his chin on your head, his hand on the back of it, scratching at your scalp with his fingertips and he presses kisses onto your hair.

"'m glad too.." you mumble against his chest, hands grasping at his back, fingers pressing into the fabric of his shirt.

"how was your walk, baby?" he picks you up by your waist, placing you gently onto his lap after he finds his spot on the couch. you rest your hands on the bottom hem of his shirt. his fingers and thumbs rub at your thighs, trying to soothe you.

"good, I got to come in through the back," you shrug, leaning yourself down to press against his chest. you nestle your body between his thighs as you gently whine in content. he presses a hand against your back, as his other grazes your cheek gently.

"mm, good, baby," he smiles, kissing your nose. you both stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other's limbs. legs tangled, arms around one another, fingers fidgeting with each other's. your head is nestled on his shoulder and his head on top of yours. it's sweet and it's warm, and your anxiety slips away with every breath of his you hear. every tingle of your skin at his touch.

"I have to go soon, hun," he whispers against the shell of your ear, placing a kiss there as he rubs your upper arm. you whine at him, hiding your face in his chest, head tucked under his chin. he giggles at you, kisses placed on your hair before he gently pulls you back.

"I have a show to play, baby boy," he smirks, kissing your forehead. he's so.. sweet, you think, kind and gentle and you love his touch and affection.

"how much longer?" you hold a gentle pout on your lips, playing with the hem of his shirt.

"mm.." he pauses in thought, not actually thinking but pretending to, only to make you laugh, "five minutes? is that good for you, baby?"

you nod, resting back on his chest as you rest your legs on either side of his thighs, cuddling close to him and letting your eyes rest. wilbur draws shapes on your back with his finger tips. his other hand plays with your hair, twirling strands around his fingers before letting go and massaging your scalp. you let out soft, contented sighs with every touch, simply taking in every feeling and savoring it.

the five minutes pass and he's putting you back to stand, hugging you and kissing you as you help hype him up. he runs on stage and you head into the crowd. you thought it might help your anxiety, to be around everyone. you easily slip into the crowd, finding a spot off to the side and clapping and screaming with the crowd.

you blend in easily, getting drawn into the music and enjoying it just as anyone else. you eye wilbur lovingly, watching him bounce around and perform in his costume. he looks so silly to you, adorable and lovely. you smile so widely and he glances over to you every once and a while, a smile and a wink thrown in your direction.

the show moves along smoothly, he talks in between songs when he's tuning his guitar. he's careful not to point you out, but he talks about you. gushing over his boyfriend, how sweet you are and how you're the reason he has a costume this year. he smiles so wide, and his eyes sparkle. he really loves you.

once the show ends, they go out to the back, and you slip back through the backstage door. the crowd finds their way out to the back, ready to meet the guys and your heart starts to pound at the idea. you fully plan on going out with Wil, wanting to be beside him despite your fears. surely it'll be fine? no one will bother you and all in all, he'll be there so you'll be okay.

he meets you in the hall outside of the green room, picking you up by your waist and spinning you around before kissing all over your face. you giggle, humming and grabbing at his shirt.

"hi, baby-" he coos, pulling back and resting his forehead on yours.

"hi, wilbee.." you let your words fade, sighing and shutting your eyes. he rubs your cheeks with his thumbs as he looks down into your eyes.

"ready, lovey?" he smiles, pulling back and dipping his head to meet your eyes.

you nod and he puts out his hand for you. you wrap your hand around his finger, not bothering with holding his whole hand as he leads you outside through the backdoor. you keep your hold on him, hiding in his side or behind him. you're sure to hold onto him, so you don't lose him somewhere in the crowd. there isn't a barricade outside like there sometimes is, so fans crowd around and cluster up in his (and your) personal space. you stay quiet about it, keeping your fast breathing and spinning mind under wraps. wilbur tells a few people to back up just a bit, for safetys sake as he speaks with a few fans. he lets you keep that hold on him, only letting go when he takes photos.

your mind wanders until a few voices catch you. they're simple whispers, ones that surround you and come from behind you. you don't turn around to see the source of the voices but you hear what they say as clear as day.

"does he really have to bring his boyfriend everywhere?"

"we're here to see Lovejoy, not wilbur's lost puppy."

they laugh together, and wilbur doesn't even hear, and you don't bother to speak up either. you try your best to zone out, to pull those voices out of your mind and crush them, but they seem to consume you.

"everyone knows he's probably just a gold digger. someone like him can only be a gold digger."

"wilbur's too old for him anyways. we all know wil would be happier with someone older."

you lean your head on wilbur's side, whining softly as your brain spins and drowns in fear and anxiety. he doesn't stop his conversation for a bit, not until you grab onto his shirt and tug it slightly. your head is tilted back and your eyes are sad as they look up at him.

he pulls you aside gently, crouching just barely so your eyes are at the same level. he holds your face, kissing your lips once before pulling back to smile at you.

"what's wrong, baby? do you need to leave?" he asks in a gentle tone, you shake your head gently. you know you aren't convincing but if you can be just enough, maybe he'll go back out again. maybe you won't ruin the night.

"no, no, I'm okay. just tired. um.. let's go back? i don't want anyone to be upset." you hold a soft, yet fake, smile on your lips. wilbur frowns, not believing your facade for a second but taking it knowing how stubborn you are. you grab onto his belt loop this time, following him back over into the crowd of fans.

he continues going about interactions, signing things and talking amongst everyone, he takes photos and he hugs people.

you tune yourself out of what he's busy with, not wanting to be bothersome. but as always, you regret that decision.

more people start talking about you.

it's driving you crazy.

"such a pitiful guy, his boyfriend protecting him- Jesus, wilbur deserves someone better."

tears start to prick at your eyes due to the words thrown at you. you bite your lip and let go of wils jeans, walking away and wiping tears from your cheeks with your sleeve.

you hear more comments, most are seemingly happy about your absence and you don't get a cool breath until you're back inside the venue. you decide packing up would be your best bet, putting away what wilbur brought. his laptop and charger, a book and guitar picks. you pack everything you can, letting sobs rip through your chest as tears pour down your cheeks. you're a mess and you feel it. you aren't even sure if wilbur had noticed your absence but you sort of hope he didn't. you didn't want to steal him from everyone anyways.

a few minutes pass of frantic packing and burning tears before footsteps are heard. wilbur opens the door to the green room gently, walking over to you and pulling you into his arms. he's silent, not a word needs to be spoken for you to know how okay it is. you let it out, crying into his chest as sobs ripple out and you grasp at his shirt. he rubs your back with one hand while the other pets your hair. he kisses the top of your head, shushing you sweetly.

"shh.. shh, baby it's okay. I'm here? okay, I'm here." he mumbles between kisses to your head. his fingers rub and press on your back to help ground you. eventually you're able to catch your breath, voice still shakey but at least you aren't crying. the tears have been shed and all that's left is a broken voice and stains of sorrow on your cheeks.

he holds your face, rubbing away the tear stains with his thumbs. you sigh, holding his wrists with your hands, rubbing the inside with your thumbs.

"what happened?" he asks again and you want to brush it off, but instead you spill. you tell him of all the horrible things you've seen and heard, how you feel like the only one that experiences it. you ask why you're so hated, and he doesn't have the answer. he can only see the beauty in you, he sees no reason for one to hate you or even dislike you one bit. he nods and sighs, kissing your forehead before pulling you into his lap and placing soft kisses to your neck and jaw.

"you're okay now, baby. I'm here, I won't let anyone hurt you. i promise, none of those things are true and I promise I love you, and I love you for who you are." he smiles, watching your eyes sparkle with an admiration at his words. you feel the sobs build up in your throat and you want to cry again, to sob hysterically just by hearing such sweet words.

"i mean how can someone be a gold digger if they insist on helping pay bills on an apartment they're not even on the lease for?" he chuckles, kissing your forehead as you find giggles escaping you instead at his silly words. it's true, if anything you're farther from a gold digger than anything, "they don't know you, hun, so don't let them get to you."

he kisses your forehead one more time, before pulling back and letting you tuck into his lap for a few minutes rest. he lets you lay there, rubbing your back until he has to pick you up. he does so, and you both begin to pack the van up, ready to go home as soon as possible.

he stops you by the back door, holding your hand and looking down at you, "home, my tardis?"

"home, doctor," you smile up at him and he kisses you once, twice, three times before hurrying you both to the van. he helps you in first, buckling you in before he slides in next to you.

"what was that for?" you inquire gently, his hand reaching out to you, insisting you wrap your hand around his finger and you do so, but keep your gaze on him in order to keep his attention.

"I wanted to show extra care, that's all."

you nod softly in agreement, resting your head against his shoulder as he sighs.

"g'night, baby," he kisses your temple with a sweet smile.

"goodnight, daddy.." you smile to yourself as sleep takes over and you finally feel a blanket of peace over you.

it wasn't the best experience, but at least you had wilbur along the way.

taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @ughtreyparker @whos-nicooo @zebonos

© 2023 mysticalsoot

[scullysflannel]

I really do think having to watch the Doctor host a happy little backyard dinner party hammered home how uninterested I am in emotional stability on Doctor Who. Donna is my favorite companion and the Tenth Doctor era was the peak of my obsession, but the idea that this should mean I want to see them “happy forever” is so boring as a tv fan and so insidious in the context of this specific show, which has been built on the inevitability of change for 60 years. the thing about Doctor Who is that it’s optimistic and aimed at children and endless and therefore full of loss. it has to be both. and not to be presumptuous, because I understand that Russell T. Davies is grieving his husband, but in the long run I would think anyone who’s grieving will get more out of watching the Doctor carry on and find new people to care about than they will out of watching a fantasy where the Doctor regresses to an old face and magically gets a second chance with a friend he once lost.

in the language of the show, this happiness isn’t just narratively cheap but also kind of terrifying. this is the kind of thing we see in dream sequences that are killing the characters slowly. watching the show do it for real (unless we're really in for a surprise) is unnerving. it also asks us to forget something fundamental about Tennant’s Doctor: that no matter how human he seemed, he wasn’t. the tragedy that energizes his story is that he’s so close to the life he thinks he wants and he can’t have it. and it’s a two-way tragedy, for both him and his companion, because at different points they both believe the lie he’s telling himself (that he’s basically human), only to be hit with the reminder that he’s still so alien. he wants to not have to watch his friends grow old and die without him. he doesn’t want a mortgage.

what makes Tennant’s Doctor interesting is that his humanity also comes with a god complex: cruelty, pettiness, callousness, cluelessness, ego. he loves Rose, but he likes the idea of settling down with her more because it’s unattainable. and Donna — she was going to travel with him forever! he took her away from a boring life. it’s nice that she’s happy with the life she has now, even if it undercuts the tragedy that made her original ending so visceral, but I think making her so settled that she even domesticates the Doctor is overcompensating. it’s sanding down that tension again — that great tension between romanticizing everyday things like getting a taxi home and romanticizing running away from a life that makes you feel unimportant. again, the show has to be both. all the best dynamics in Doctor Who, at least new Who, are the ones that treat traveling with the Doctor as a kind of addiction; you have to feel the intoxication of it in order for the pain to hit.

on that note, I don’t get the suggestion that Donna could have given up her metacrisis energy this whole time and that Tennant’s Doctor just doesn’t understand that because he’s male presenting. Donna is the one who didn’t give it up 15 years ago. if she always could have given up that power, then the only explanation for why she didn’t is that she couldn’t bear to go back to being “ordinary,” and of course the Tenth Doctor, who can't let anything go (“I don’t want to go”), would never think to let it go either. it’s about personality. the idea that it all comes down to the Doctor’s current gender presentation is a bleak vision of regeneration, where everything one regeneration experiences, in terms of how their body affects their privilege, is immediately forgotten once they change. Fourteen isn’t exactly Ten, but bringing back Tennant as the Doctor and treating him like Ten (who moved through the world with the privilege of a white man) meant that the show didn’t really get to explore the aftermath of the Doctor presenting as a woman. am I meant to believe that their experience taught them nothing? rude to Jodie! and does that imply that everything Ncuti’s Doctor is about to experience isn’t going to affect how future Doctors understand race at all? isn’t that sad?

all this in an episode that doesn’t even mention Martha! the show’s first Black companion is now the only Tenth Doctor companion who doesn’t get her own personal Doctor, and they can’t even say her name. it’s been said on here before, but this isn’t about whether Martha would “want” her own Doctor (he’s her friend! I think she’d want to see him, although as this post puts it, she’d “rehome him within a week”). she’s a fictional character. it’s worth asking why Martha Jones was written in such a way that when she gets ignored, people will rise up to defend it as a sign of her independence. 

and it's unfair that Ncuti didn't get the normal regeneration sequence. even his TARDIS is a duplicate. the bi-generation feels like it leaves the door open for people to treat Ncuti’s Doctor as less legitimate. granted, those people would probably take any excuse, so you can't write for them. but as fun as it was to see the two Doctors team up (they should kiss), and as much as Ncuti is serving already, he shouldn't have had to share the spotlight. at minimum the bi-generation should have resolved by the end of the episode. now David Tennant is just looming out there until who knows when. also, the thing about sending Fourteen off to “deal with his trauma” is that it implies that Fifteen already did that, and I don't want that. the Doctor has to be haunted. what is Doctor Who about if not running from your past at warp speed? yeah, Ncuti’s Doctor should be at the club, but regeneration always gives the Doctor enough of a fresh start to have fun for a few episodes before the horrors hit; I don’t think he needed to be fully healed before hitting the club. 

when Jodie’s era kicked off we spent every week waiting for her to snap. full disclosure, I haven’t seen the Flux season, which apparently put her through it, but I don’t think her Doctor was ever allowed access to the full range of personality flaws that other Doctors have, which was unfair to her and also less fun to watch. I don’t want to see that happen to Ncuti’s Doctor; he deserves to be burdened, prideful, angry, rude, whatever. we can’t let the Doctor fall victim to the therapy-speak epidemic on television. he should get to be alien, and I want to see him snap.

[spacedadpicard]

For your writing commissions do you have any examples of your work? Do you take fanfiction requests? If so what fandoms are you comfortable writing for? Is one of them Doctor Who? Do you have a list of things you will and won’t write?

hi! :) thanks for your message.

i do have examples of my work! click here to check out my ao3 page or here for a google doc of assorted excerpts, both from original works and fanfics.

i have recently discovered that making money from fanfictions is a bit of a legal grey area, so i do not advertise fanfic commissions on my blog. that being said, if you wanted to request a fic and just so happened to want to tip me for my time and services, that would be alright!

fandoms i am comfortable writing for include twin peaks, star trek: the next generation, star trek: deep space nine, star wars, hannibal, baldur's gate 3, dragon age: inquisition, the lord of the rings, the plague tale series, it's always sunny in philadelphia, game of thrones, and others. feel free to ask about specific fandoms!

regarding dw, i have quite limited experience of it. i mostly know the tenth and eleventh doctors. if you'd like fic based on any of the other generations, i'm happy to try and chase down a few episodes and try my hand at it, if you like, but you may get a better result trying someone with more experience of the fandom (especially if your prompt requires a deep knowledge of dw lore).

finally, regarding things i will and won't write, i'm pretty adaptable. i am comfortable writing in a variety of genres and am reader- and OC-friendly. when it comes to topics, i'm pretty relaxed. i am a-okay with writing graphic content and handling dark subject matter. this extends to topics such as CSA, assault, etc., which probably goes without saying given a couple of fandoms on my list; as a survivor of abuse, i believe stories that handle these topics are important. that said, i am not comfortable describing such acts in vivid detail or placing them within a context that presents them as titillating or that tries to excuse them. i am not interested in presenting harmful action without trying to interrogate it. that is a hard line for me.

i think that covers everything! please do feel free to send me a follow-up ask or shoot me a message if you have any further questions.

[okay-j-hannah]

Domestic

Doctor Who : Prompt

Tenth Doctor x DyingGirl!Reader

Word Count: 2460

Warnings: I’ve placed this in the Dying Girl Universe {which is a series I’ve written} It takes place during Part 3: The Ending Song This fic won’t make much sense without the context of that series

🌌 If you’re a fan of the series, feel free to make requests with the DyingGirl!Reader 🌌

Request: “ten x reader Where reader takes a break of sort after a close encounter with death, nothing serious really, y'know the usual with the doctor but this time they felt like going back to their old home/life just for few days but the doctor cannot stay alone so he visits the reader, with prompt 127+129+133 with 40 and maybe 96 and 102? Like just domestic fluff, being at home and living human life rather than running for their lives.” Anon

Prompts:

133. “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh, trust me I can’t.”

96. “Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

40. “I had a nightmare about you and just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

A/N: The Doctor returns to spend a few ‘human’ days with you

~~~

The back garden was peaceful that evening. The sun was hidden by wispy clouds, warming her face where she sat in a patio chair. The grass was trimmed and the plants creeping along the edges.

The neighborhood cat was prowling near the vegetable patch, no doubt on pest control. It made (Y/N) smile, watching the spotted feline pounce on a grasshopper.

It should have been peaceful to (Y/N), but it only made her itch. She was tired, yes – on the steady decline with her tonic dependent illness – but the Time Lord in her was itching to move.

It’d been over a month since she was returned to Earth. Over a month since the Doctor and her bought the little townhome. And over a month since the Doctor gave the promise to return.

No doubt he was traveling the universe as she instructed, possibly with a new companion. She hoped he did – he shouldn’t travel alone.

She was contemplating writing in her journal, or perhaps making a pot of tea, when the cat rubbed against her ankle. It mewled and ruffled its whiskers against her skin. (Y/N) chuckled quietly, bending to scratch behind its ears.

“Clever cat, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely brilliant.”

(Y/N) flipped in her chair, the cat skittering towards the side gate where the new voice announced itself.

“I asked her to look out for you.” The Doctor squatted down to pet the animal, “I speak cat, you know.”

“Of course you do,” (Y/N) whispered, rising cautiously to her feet – she was prone to headaches and dizzy spells these days. “Hello there.”

The Doctor stood, expression unreadable, “Hello (Y/N).”

Slowly – comically – a smile developed on her face. Seconds later a matching one grew on the Doctor. He started to laugh.

“You madman,” she choked on a laugh, “My beautiful, brown-eyed Doctor.”

He strode over and wrapped his arms around her waist, swift and soft. She reciprocated with arms around his neck. “I’ve missed you,” he whispered, “How are you feeling?”

“As well as I can,” she replied, pulling away only to kiss him full on the mouth.

He practically squeaked, “My dear, I’ve got a request.”

She smiled at his dusty pink cheeks, “Yes?”

“I’ve considered taking some time off,” he feigned a business-like voice, as if he needed a professional excuse to pause his adventuring. “And I’m in need of a place to stay.”

“Really, Doctor,” (Y/N) scoffed, “You don’t have to create some lie just to visit me.”

He tried to hide his smile, “So I’m welcome then?”

“For a price,” she sighed dramatically, “Escort me inside?” She lifted one of her ashen hands.

The Doctor looked at it warily but encased it with his own. “If we’re to talk of a price, surely I’m entitled to some negotiation.”

“Only because I fear the garden cat will come after me if I don’t.”

“She is clever like that, isn’t she?” the Doctor said fondly. “I believe it’s only fair I’m given kitchen privileges.”

(Y/N) laughed, entering the living room and closing the glass door behind them, “I didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh, trust me I can’t.”

“Alright,” she shook her head endearingly, “Full kitchen access. Anything else?”

“I want a rubber duck for the bath.”

(Y/N) made for the plushest armchair – the cushion was kind to her bones – and spoke with a smile in her voice, “I’ve got one hidden in the cupboard somewhere.”

He eyed her slow movement with hidden guilt, “And absolutely, under no circumstance, are you to do anything more than relax.” He made for her chair, sitting on the ottoman, “Let me take care of you.”

“Take care of me?” she grinned, “What makes you say I need taking care of?”

He ignored the question, “I’ll cook and clean. Do the shopping and make your tea. I’ll get your slippers and fold the laundry. I can mix your tonic and check your temperature.”

“Doctor,” she said quietly, “Are you trying to play husband?”

“Well…” he said loudly – animatedly – as if that hid the flush overtaking him. “You’ve been cooped up here long enough with nothing but your books and illness and the spy cat. I figured you could use some company.”

“I have friends, Doctor,” she giggled, “Jack visits me all the time.”

He grumbled, “Of course he does. I’ll have to tell him off. Say you’re on quarantine and can’t have visitors.”

“Don’t you dare,” she chastised, but she had a soft look. “You haven’t heard my price yet.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“You have to tell me a bedtime story every night.”

He smiled, “Sure.”

“You have to bring me a ball of starlight to keep me company when you leave.”

The Doctor barked a laugh, “Don’t know if that’s possible but I’ll try.”

“And you can’t talk about my illness while you’re here,” she swallowed hard, “No talk of tonics or cures or how I look unwell.” She held a hand up when he tried to speak, “I just want to enjoy the time we have together.”

He clamped his mouth shut, contemplating her words. He began to nod, “Molto bene.”

She grinned, “I’ve missed you.”

The Doctor leaned forward and took her hand, starting to trace her knuckles like he used to on their adventures. “Now what do you humans do for dinner?”

She new very well the Doctor was making a joke – he knew she was a Time Lord – but of the two of them only one had lived as a human for years. It made her giggle.

“Takeout?”

~~~

(Y/N) had a toothbrush hanging from her mouth. She was peering from the banister on the stairs. She was seeking the source of the running water.

There in the kitchen, clad in an old shirt and sweats, was the Doctor. Washing dishes.

She brushed a knuckle under her lip, wiping away any toothpaste, “Having fun?”

The Doctor whirled around, splashing bubbles everywhere, “Loads!” His smile was wide and contagious. There was a sponge in one hand and a scrubber brush in another, both dripping suds down his arms.

“Coming to bed?” she called, brushing her teeth, “It’s getting late.”

“Right,” he said, tossing the sponge with a squelch in the sink, “You have to sleep. I forget the silly things of the dull life sometimes.” He grabbed a towel and wiped the remaining bubbles from his arms. “I’m rather fond of the shirt, where’d you get it?”

The grey tee had the NASA logo faded on the front. (Y/N) spoke through a mouthful of toothpaste foam, “Some American intern that worked at St. Bartholomew’s.”

“An intern?”

“I spilled pudding on my shirt, and he offered his extra that he kept in his locker. I was going to an interview after my appointment, so it really was a lifesaver.”

The Doctor had a close lipped smile as he lifted a hand to (Y/N)’s face, still leaning over the banister. He wiped at the corner of her mouth, poking her nose for good measure.

“I request a story,” she said, turning for the second floor.

The Doctor followed, “I have one or two at the ready.”

“Did you find another companion? You never said.”

They entered her bedroom, (Y/N) going for the en suite bathroom to clean up.

“Yes, actually,” the Doctor flopped onto the bed, “Donna Noble. Loud, angry, brilliant Donna Noble.”

“Does she know about me?”

“Of course she does,” he played with the objects on the nightstand – clicking the lamp, flipping through a book, messing with the alarm clock. “Won’t shut up about meeting you.”

(Y/N) came to the bed, settling under the sheets, “I’d love to meet her.”

The Doctor leaned against the pillows, eyeing her with fondness. It was quiet and simple and full of love. It was like he couldn’t wait to ask his next question, “Tell me about your day.” It was such a couple thing to do, asking your partner about their day.

“Well,” she sighed, sinking into the mattress, “I had an eventful morning of eating some toast and jam. I had my teaspoon of tonic and tea. Then I talked with the mailman about getting the local newsletter. Martha sent me a package with a microwavable neck wrap, bath salts, and fuzzy socks – ever so kind about checking in on me. I had a bubble bath and watched my television dramas. Then I took a nap before snacking on cold sandwiches. And I rested in the back garden, talking to the cat and humming to the bees before you showed up.”

The Doctor soaked up every word, waiting patiently for her to finish. “What kind of bubbles?”

“What?” she laughed, watching his hand trail down to her fingers.

“What kind of bubbles did you use for your bath.”

“Eucalyptus and spearmint,” she giggled, “Of course you’d focus on the bubbles.”

He pouted, “You can never go wrong with bubbles.”

She entwined their fingers, poking his leg with her covered toes, “What’s Donna doing if you’re here?”

“Oh, she’s staying with her family after some nasty business with poisoned exhaust and some angry potato people.”

“Is that going to be our bedtime story?”

He considered it seriously, “Or the eruption of Pompeii or the Ood planet business. Or the Adipose children!”

“I don’t think anyone has pillow talk quiet like we do,” she laughed, “The volcano sounds like a good story.”

The Doctor smiled, ruffling his already crazed hair, “Well, I was in a rather poor state of mind on that trip. By the end of it Donna had to knock some sense into me.”

“I’m liking her already.”

And the story of Rome and the soothsayers and the volcanic giants put (Y/N) into a deep, quiet sleep. The deepest and quietest she’d had since living in the townhome. But that was always the Doctor – at the end of the day, he was the one to quiet her fears and comfort her anxieties. He made her feel safe and sleepy.

So when she was roused from her sleep to find the Doctor awake and sad, she was bewildered. He was in the reading chair that normally sat near the window, his elbow on his knee and head in his hand.

“Hello,” he whispered.

“What time is it?” she whispered back, the room dark except for the light peeking around the door.

He smiled softly at the sleep in her voice, “Nearly four in the morning. I just came in to check on you.”

“Came in? You didn’t stay after your story?” she was rubbing the tired out of her eyes.

“You fell asleep before I could ask if that was alright. The couch was comfortable enough.”

She looked at his sad eyes, deep and endless in color. “Are you alright?”

“I had a nightmare about you,” his sweet smile turned grim, “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She watched him fight the urge to remain saddened. He worked his lips into a pitiful smile. “That’s why I came, you know. Sometimes you forget how loud the silence is until you’re the only one there. The things it whispers to you. What it makes you fret. Donna helped some…” he rubbed a wary hand over his face, “But she’s not you.”

(Y/N) watched him confess, conscious of how open and vulnerable he was being. This was normally when he’d change the subject with a loud transition word or run away to distract himself with another physics problem.

Now he was waiting for her response.

“Come to bed,” she whispered, lifting the sheets, “I’m tired and it’s warm under here.”

His gaze was somber, but the smile was more genuine, “Good, because that couch really wasn’t all that comfortable.”

“You fibber,” she giggled, pulling on his arms until he wrapped himself around her. His head rested on her chest, his hair scratching at her chin. “Were you fibbing about the nightmare too?”

“No,” he said quietly, molding himself to her side. His long fingers found purchase around her waist, fitting nicely between her ribs. “The silence has never been kind to me. It likes to taunt me when I’m alone. Haunt me with visions of you.”

She pushed his wild hair back, “I’m here now, Doctor. Nothing nightmarish about it. Just two people sharing a bed in their small home on the edge of town.”

He sighed contentedly beside her, “Just us two.”

~~~

She awoke with bird song from the front garden and the smell of pancakes coming from the stairs. Judging by the whistled tune below, the Doctor slept well. The pillow beside her still smelt of him.

It made her smile, spotting a cup of tea and her tonic bottle on the nightstand. Morning routine, she thought. Only this time the Doctor was climbing the stairs with a breakfast tray laden with toast and jam, blueberry pancakes, and a pile of bacon.

“Good morning, dear,” he said merrily, “Bon Appetit.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly, still drunk with sleep, “You’ve got jam on your shirt.”

The Doctor sat near her feet, rubbing at the strawberry stain on his chest, “Yes, well – the butter knife was being uncooperative.”

And with a clear view of his head now, she giggled, “Is that pancake batter in your hair?”

He pinched her foot. “Fine, I’ll have a shower,” he sighed, “Enjoy your breakfast.” He stood, “What’s that shampoo you use – something like coconut?”

“That’s my body wash,” she bit into her toast, “Coconut and lime.”

“Then what’s the apple smell?” he asked, going for her bathroom.

She replied, “That’d be the conditioner.”

The Doctor returned holding a large bottle under his arm, “I’m just going to borrow it for a mo.”

“Just use my shower you tosser,” she laughed, “The one downstairs doesn’t drain properly anyway.”

“Which reminds me,” he twirled in the doorway, brandishing the conditioner bottle at her, “Do you need me to get anything from the store?”

“The store?” she picked a slice of bacon, “I thought you were taking a shower.”

He leaned against the doorframe, tossing the bottle between his hands, “I was just thinking… perhaps we could get the shopping done while I’m here. Maybe trim the grass and clean the gutters. I noticed the refrigerator is a few degrees off and I can fix that easy with my sonic.”

She eyed him resting easy now against the door. He was lazily beautiful, leaning so his old t shirt rode up and revealed a sliver of skin before his baggy sweatpants. He was all bedhead and new day energy, waking up to a house and a girl and a human life.

“You play the part of domestic well,” she smiled.

He looked at her fondly, “I told you I was capable of being domestic. Enjoy it even.”

~~~

Tag List:

@caswinchester2000 @aria253264 @bippity-boppity-boopa @kaqua @cameleonfrenzy @shyposttree  @zerocanonlywriteshit @ryou-cosmos @multifandomfix @mythandmagik @wanna-plan-world-domination @bb-skyrunner @murder-swan @v-gremlin @elisaa-shelby @mxacegrey​ @onebigfangirl​ @unknownfacelessstuff @holly-the-trash-writer  @lilac-skies-xd

Remember to check out my tag list so you’re updated when a fic you like is posted on my blog! Tag List

[dovand]

had a very good/very bad (depending on how much you like angst) 14 and rose tyler fic idea. plot description under the cut

rose tyler finally finds her way back into the main universe (btw for context this also features my pet angst headcanon that the metacrisis tenth doctor went kaboom pretty shortly after arriving in pete's world) & lands in the noble's garden while 14 is staying with them. donna hears her arrive/14 feels the fabric of the universe shift and be weird they run to see what's going on—14 sees her, and just sort of freezes at the threshold to the garden. donna stands behind him also shocked. 14 and rose stare at each other silently.

rose is thinking "i've finally made it" and "oh my god oh my god oh my god" and "he looks older" and "he looks SCARED" and 14 is thinking "she's finally made it" and "oh my god oh my god" and "she looks the same" and "i don't know what to do. what do i do".

donna says "well, go hug her, spaceman" and his trance breaks and he steps forward and rose runs across the garden and they hug and he's relieved to see her of COURSE. but he also doesn't know if he wants the same sort of relationship from her and he doesn't know how to tell her, and he doesn't know why she's back even though he thought he sorted out the whole situation by giving her the metacrisis, so he holds her tight but he's too scared to be happy that he's seeing her again.

eventually she pulls away a bit to Look At Him and cup his face. and it feels like she's looking for something in his expression; it feels like she's looking for desire that he doesn't have anymore; it feels like she's looking for breathless delight when he's really just terrified. and he looks back at her and tries his best to mask the fear and murmurs "you're back" and tries not to be too horrified/exhilarated about how she—who was, above all, his FRIEND—still wants to be around him.

i don't know how the conversation goes right after that but i think it's a lot of staring on 14 and rose's part and a suggestion to come inside for tea on donna's part. it is not so much decided as a foregone conclusion that rose will stay the night with them—in the tardis, as there isn't a guest room. 14 awkwardly shows her the new tardis. the initial buzz of having made it back has worn off and she is getting melancholy and tired and she goes to bed (her room is still there.) and 14 goes back into the house to gaze wide-eyed and shell-shocked at donna then get pulled into a firm side-hug. "i don't know what to do," he says. "we'll figure it out," says donna.

because the thing is. i have a space in my heart for permanently-altered-by-bad-wolf-rose. and it would be so [insert conflicting emotions here idk man. i don't even know] if that change was a bit of immortality at the cost of stagnation. at the cost of forever being like her 20something-year-old self, desperately in love with the doctor and wanting nothing more than to be with him forever. if the cost of saving him was to be unable to leave him, was to love him even so many faces later and so tired and having come to terms with it. because he has! i think by this point the doctor has accepted that he will never see her again. but now all this is getting dragged up again, and she clearly still loves him, but he's not that person anymore, even if he looks almost the same... i dunno. much to think on

[kits-ships]

doctor/olive/master fic quotes, dahlia edition :3

(dividers to separate different drabbles.one-shots) - (tenth doctor and simm master

warnings: mentions of pregnancy, dahlia is a fankid <3, and a single, vague mention of weight (ties into pregnancy). also idk how to write children properly

"are you guys still harassing diplomats? x" her message simply asked as she curled up on her bed in the TARDIS; Honey and Coconut purring by her side. "We weren't 'harassing diplomats'!" the Doctor quickly attempted to explain, "just having a bit of fun!" "It's... important research," the Master added. That definitely didn't seem suspicious.

"that sounds fun <3" she texted back, holding her stomach as Coconut stood on top of it. "are you guys terribly busy at the moment?"

"oh, just cuddling with the cats!!" she responded. "but i think my water mightve broke x" we love a calm and collected girlie

"Your water did what?!" the Doctor's second response read His hands were shaking as he typed and his adrenaline spiked. "???" Olive laughed to herself. "you know the thing that happens to pregnant people??" she texted back with a small grin.

"just come back to the tardis !!!"

"You two have lived together for four years and still act like you hate each other." Olive pointed out with a soft laugh. "The three of us have a baby together; you're allowed to be friends, you know."

The toddler gently ran a hand over his stubble, cooing happily from the sensation of it beneath her finger tips. "She loves you." Olive hummed, watching as the girl gave him what seemed to be a kiss on the cheek. "She doesn't care about your past; just you loving her back." gripping my chest and crying as i reread this

"Dada nose." his daughter said very matter-of-the-factly before curling her tiny fingers around the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, but she's a two year old, not a licensed doctor."

"Me too, sweetheart." she murmured, kissing him once again before pulling away. Her gaze turned to Dahlia, and she tilted her head to the side. "How did you know, baby?" she wondered, watching her daughter kiss the Master's cheeks once again. The toddler turned, smiled, and went, "Dada big nose." I LOVE YOU DAHLIA !!!!!

"Daddy eating da i' cream." she informed the Doctor as if she were a tiny lawyer confirming evidence presented to the court.

"Daddy gumpy." she announced to her parents, running her hand over his stubble with a smile before cooing. "Daddy smile too!" Her fingers went to the corner of his mouth and she gently tugged them upwards. "Yay!" the girl cheered. "Daddy not gumpy!!"

The Doctor grinned, placing his hand on the small of Olive's back. "We are very handsome Time Lords," love the self confidence

They didn't get to sleep for long before Dahlia's voice rang through the room. "Mama!" her sleepy voice croaked, her drowsiness quickly turning into excitement. Olive opened her eyes with a yawn and squished her daughter's cheeks as the Master stirred. "Hi baby!" she purred, kissing her forehead. "I missed you." i would die for them btw

"Plus, Dahlia said that I look like a hot air balloon the other day." The redhead murmured, smiling faintly as she remembered her toddler's comment. (she's having twins for context)

"I mean…yeah, I can see that. But, hey, you're just the cutest hot air balloon I've ever seen."

hi taglist ! this isnt technically writing but its cute, so :3c? @selffulfillingshipper @dudefrommywesterns @sunstar-of-the-north @felixrichtershubby @kylars-princess @faerie-circle-ships @knightoflove @wyndford-dekarios @strawberrisoulmate

[sailforvalinor]

7, 13, 16, and 18 for Doctor Who!

-Rain

7. How does the story compare to your initial impressions of it? Has it surprised you yet? How?

I definitely wasn’t expecting it to be as romantic (in all senses of the word), nor as heartbreaking! And to be honest, it’s surprised me in more ways than I can count or list, in almost every respect.

13. Tell me an out-of-context piece of worldbuilding or lore?

The Tenth Doctor looks the way he does because the Doctor tried to regenerate into what he thought Rose’s ideal boyfriend would look like. Please excuse me while I sob.

16. Do you think this story has broad appeal, or is it meant for a very specific audience? If it’s more ‘niche,’ what kind of person would enjoy this story?

I think it comes across as very intimidating simply because of the sheer amount of Doctor Who that there is, plus the fact that it’s sci-fi. Once you get into it, though, I think from the Ninth Doctor onwards, I think it has a good amount of broad appeal, and I think most people will find something they like about it, especially when you realize that the general mindset of the fandom is to take from it what you like, and ignore the stuff you don’t. It does take a certain level of investment though—this isn’t just a show you turn on as background noise.

18. Compare this story to your usual tastes. What parts of it are exactly the kind of thing you’ve always loved?

Understated, subtle, yet extremely poignant romance, reverence for creation, THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP, man’s struggle with his own morality, time travel, extremely strong character development and examinations, I could keep going.

[spigo-art]

Tenth Doctor but... evil?

I'm not giving any context but I really like how this sketch turned out. Also this was my first time making a custom brush myself (for the gallifreyan)

[insomniac-101]

God so I just recently purchased the Blu-ray edition of the tenth doctor's run and have been watching the commentary tracks for each episode (which btw, are soo good if you're a major fan of this era. They add a lot of context and extra details to the episodes).

I just finished the girl in the fireplace's commentary track and thankfully hearing the cast's comments on the scenes made it all the more bearable. Not because i hate the episode, but because everytime I rewatch it, it feels like reopening a flesh wound lol

Like it makes me so sad for everyone lmao.

Personally I am not of the opinion that it is badly written, I think the episode does a good job of exploring the more unflattering sides of the Doctor and his duties while also simultaneously exploring the strengths of those choosing to associate with him.

Within the episodes, the three leads make the ultimate sacrifice.

With Madame de pompadour sacrificing a slow path with the doctor for the greater good.

With Rose letting him go, knowing that his selflessness would never allow him to see someone he has come to care for, suffer a meaningless death

And the Doctor, choosing to step in and save Reinette, because it's the right thing to do in spite of knowing there's a possibility that he will never return. Especially with the amount of flirting they did, he formed a connection and now is made to pay the price for it.

It's such a sad episode, and the hurt on all sides always makes me feel so bad for everyone involved. Especially for Rose in particular, who has to put aside her personal feelings and step in spite of knowing how the doctor and Reinette feel about one another ( I wouldn't say love, but there's an attraction there definitely)

It goes to show how brave these two women are to do what is right even if it directly hinders their own needs. How much strength it really takes to accompany the doctor, given that one never knows how their adventures will end.

It also goes to show why you often don't see the doctor make promises to those he rescues. Why he often keeps people at a distance, because getting to know these people in peril personally makes losing them all too real. They become a priority above his better judgement, and he cannot escape the consequences of letting himself feel something towards them.

It's an unfortunate situation, but I think it goes to strengthen the bond between Rose and the Doctor further. As it not only explains why submitting to romantic attraction is a doomed endeavor on the Doctor's part, but why they both function well as a pair. Making them the only two in the scenario to really understand the repercussions of what has occurred on the big scale of things, but nonetheless letting the other grieve regardless.

Idk it's a war of conflicting feelings really lmao because although I am not a fan of the romance between him and Reinette (for other reasons), it manages to humanize him further. Making him a flawed individual that is not above making insensitive decisions or falling for flattery. He has feelings and emotions, that although help him sympathize to those around him, can also make him vulnerable in the same way any human is.

I think it adds to his character, although I will admit it had unfortunate timing on when it took place over the course of the overall character development (which ironically is a point that I have seen most agree with, even those that aren't the biggest fan of the Doctor and Rose romance). Overall, just very conflicted lmao

Lol just had to write out my thoughts, there will probably be more to come about these episodes since I'll be rewatching them.